Glimpses of Sara

My mom and I when we visited the butterfly museum last summer.

Me and my poison ivy–not thrilled with each other even a week after it appeared.

(When you’re not great at shooting selfies while driving, transform them into sketches…. ) While I did ask my son how I looked before I left for my first day on the job, I didn’t think about shooting a photo — until I reached my first STOP sign. I look more happy than anxious. :)

My friend Robena and I took a selfie prior to embarking on the Dash for Diabetes 5K Saturday morning.

A selfie of my mother and I on my last visit.

Stars upon thar driver licenses…

Me, this morning, with the trusty float destined to save me from all the denizens of the deep — and the shallows.

Loving being with my husband

The fun before the storm… Little Orange Riding Hood and her sister Trish with unruly, not overly photogenic or cooperative football fans in the background. Did these people not feel the raindrops splashing around us? This was the weekend before the Nightmare with Coughin’ began…

Temporarily pouting, but permanently enlightened!

Daughter-in-love and mother-in-love. :)

Stainless steel frames with progressive, no-line bifocal lenses that are photochromatic and have a premium oleophobic anti-reflective coating for a mere $136.26 shipped to my mailbox in two weeks or less. Zenni, you should hire me to advertise for you.)

My son after his final performance in “Beauty and the Beast.” He played both a beast and a prince perfectly… just like in real life. :)

So it poured rain the day of commencement, which meant it was a bad hair day. But it was a great day with my new, old friends anyway!

Adam and I a mere six years ago…

That would be me…. and, yes, I am smiling behind the mask.

Actually, I was holding the pitchfork, and I wasn’t smiling…

Spontaneous selifes by way of illustration: The two on the left were done with modern technology, me looking at what would be the mirror image WYWIWYG. The right one, quasi modern, digital smartphone camera but holding it as I would a traditional camera.

I wear my Fitbit for the buzz…

I bought a Fitbit on Black Friday and have been walking for the buzz ever since. For those of you not wearing a Fitbit tracker on your wrist, “the buzz” is a vibration and visual display of celebration that flickers across the tiny digital screen when you reach your goal for the day.

It still catches me by surprise — even when I’ve recently checked the watch to see how many steps I’ve taken and know I’m close to 10,000 (the default setting I have not bothered to adjust). Sometimes I look at the band and see the celebration too. It’s like a party on my wrist.

Yay, me!

I work out daily and consider myself a fitness regular — and my FitBit step counting is just the icing on the cake. (The “cake” being weight lifting or swimming or cycling or more intense exercise that I don’t bother measuring or recording on my Fitbit or its accompanying app.)

When I published a post about my Fitbit the day after I bought it, you would have thought I committed the unpardonable sin. I was rewarded with a comment that simply indicated: “Fitbit: Destroying Innate Self-Awareness and Intuition Since 2007 (For more, see GPS).”

Huh.

Of course, I immediately took offense at that. I was simply going to use the Fitbit as a tool, a motivator, a measurement of activity (and to make it easy to keep track of my steps for the walking challenges we keep having at work). I was not planning on disengaging my self-awareness and intuition. Bahh!

The downside to wearing a Fitbit vs. a pedometer, however, is that it measures arm movement, not leg movement. Do you have any idea how often I am carrying something when I walk? Either over the shoulder, in the crook of my elbow, or the hand of the very arm bearing the tracker?

When I walk into the health club, for instance, I carry two gym bags, my hanging clothes, and my keys (and pepper spray, just in case you were thinking I walked unprotected). I strategically drape one bag over my left shoulder, carry the other bag in my right hand, pin my hanging clothes under my right elbow — so I can swing my left arm (with my keys) to clock my movements on my Fitbit.

To count my steps as I enter my office building, I throw both my lunch box strap and my purse strap over my left shoulder, carrying my cooler in my right hand, along with my key card. I swing my left arm liberally as I stroll.

Last week, when my daughter and grandson came to picnic with me outside of the office, I tried to wheel his stroller with my right hand and swing my left as we walked. (It didn’t work so well.) And you should see my one-handed maneuvering of a shopping cart at the grocery store.

All in the name of step tracking.

It makes me feel a bit silly, actually. Almost as if I’d traded my innate self-awareness and intuition (and pride?) for a step-counting wristwatch. Huh.

But then I earn the buzz on my 10,000th step, and I forget everything else as I experience the celebration.

Yay, me!

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Sara

I have a desire to write something that will change the world. This blog is one little step out of my currently overfilled life of working, parenting, being a wife, housekeeper, laundress, hostess, cheerleader, beader, reader, and leader... When I write, I feel a bit more sane, even if said writing exposes my insanity. Go figure.
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